This is going to be a two-shot as of right now- I may add to it later if inspiration hits though. This is dedicated to the anonymous person who made a request on the Tumblr blog Newsies Winter Wishes for something about Race's addictions. Here it is, and I hope you like it. I loved writing it, even if you don't like it, so thank you for the inspiration!
Some people, me and Racetrack included, use certain methods or coping mechanisms to distract themselves from their dark minds, aka escapism. That can be pretty extreme (alcoholism, careless sex, drugs, etc.) or not so extreme (staying up watching videos on your phone because you're too afraid to be alone with yourself). But the point is, those people usually also have addictive tendencies. They get addicted to things, usually unhealthy, as ways to cope. This can mean addiction, eating disorders, self injury, doing things for attention, or any other manner of things. My idea of Racetrack and his addictions (alcohol, smoking, gambling, etc.) is built around that theory about people. My headcanons are that Racetrack has anxiety and maybe depression. So here are some one-shots about Racetrack's coping mechanisms and his friends confronting him in various situations. Warning: It'll be fairly dark, especially the last chapter. I'll put trigger warnings before each chapter. These won't be happy stories, so please be prepared for depressing.
Title comes from my poem, "I wonder." I own it. Don't go stealing.
Excerpt;
"And I wonder
If the only thing you know for sure about the sentence
"beauty comes from pain"
Is that it's the same thing as
"pain comes from beauty."
And that you're addicted to beauty."
Part One- Carry Your Rocks
Trigger warning: hints at anxiety. That's pretty much it here. This is is in the canon timeframe.
"Why do you'se smoke so much?"
They were sitting at a table at Tibby's, more people crowded onto the bench to watch the poker game then should have fit. Racetrack was tired, and Crutchy had caught him off guard, which is probably the reason he gave an actually honest answer.
"Dunno. It calms me down when I'm nervous or somethin'."
"You must be nervous a lot then…"
"Must be." He agreed.
Crutchy was silent for a while, studying Racetrack's face. Race was looking at his cards and refusing to let any emotion show on his face.
"I didn't know." Crutchy finally spoke.
"Huh?"
Racetrack looked up.
"I dunno. You jus' always seem so confident and happy."
"So?"
"But you're not, are you?"
Racetrack looked back at the table, avoiding Crutchy's gaze as he took another puff on the cigar that had started this conversation.
"I'm gonna go outside. Tibby looks like he's about ta come tell me off fer smokin'. Maybe he'll start tryin' ta assess me mental health too." he chuckled dryly.
"I'll come with you. Um, if that's okay?"
"Sure, whatever."
They stood leaning against the wall of the restaurant for a while, before Crutchy spoke up.
"Can… can I ask you'se a question? Or is ya mad at me for pryin'?"
"I'm not mad at ya, kid. I don't think I even possess that power."
Crutchy smiled a bit.
"Are you happy?"
"I'm an orphan who's forced to break me back daily just so that I can eat at least once a day. I don't know any Newsies who are completely happy."
Crutchy didn't answer, once again taking to studying the older boy's face.
"But, besides that?"
Race sighed.
"I dunno know what you want from me, Crutch."
"I just want to know what's wrong. You're my friend, and no one should have to hold all their troubles inside. I used ta try, but somethin' I learned is that it's a lot easier when you let someone else help you carry your rocks."
"Rocks?"
"It's what I'se call troubles, sometimes. Things that weigh ya down."
Race gazed out into the street, with the look of someone who wasn't seeing what they were looking at, but something far away.
After several long minutes, Racetrack spoke. But his voice sounded a lot different than it had before- he sounded unguarded, vulnerable, and a little bit scared. His face looked just the tiniest bit sad, or wistful.
"Why- why do ya even care?" he questioned softly.
"Because you'se me friend."
Racetrack closed his eyes. He seemed tired, for once actually looking his age.
"I'm just not used it, is all. Having someone care."
Crutchy looked a little bit shocked, both at what Racetrack had admitted, and the fact that he'd admitted it.
"Oh… But Race, you know-"
"Nevermind, Crutch. I don't wanna talk no more."
"But-"
"No."
His guard was back up. Maybe it had been the pity in Crutchy's voice that had woken him up, made him realize what he was doing. Maybe he'd simply decided that that was as much as he was willing to share. Either way, he didn't seem like he'd change his mind and let Crutchy in again, not tonight at least.
"Jus' remember what I'se said 'bout holding things in. And that I'll always talk to you'se if you'se need. I really do care about you, Race. I mean it."
"Yeah. Sure."
"I- I guess we'se should head back inside." Crutchy sounded sad.
"I guess." Racetrack had taken to staring far-away again.
"You coming?"
"Sure, sure. In a few. You go on though."
"Oh. Ok."
Crutchy had just reached the door when Race called out.
"Heya- Crutchy?"
"Yeah?"
"I started just because, but it was when I realized that I'm not as anxious when I smoke that I got addicted. If you think about it, most addictions are just ways to distract yourself from pain. And I'm kinda an expert on addictions, so take it from me. So that's why I smoke, I guess."
"Oh… I- well, thanks for telling me Racetrack. I-"
"Yeah."
Crutchy sighed, but turned and went back into the warm diner, where the air was filled with laughter, shouting, and silly quarreling. Where nobody else knew how broken their gambling, Italian joker really was.
Racetrack came in around half an hour later, ordered a beer, and sat down at the overstuffed table to watch the finish of a new poker game. He laughed and joked just as much as always. It was just as convincing as always, too, except to Crutchy, who felt sad knowing that it was all an act. An elaborate mask that Racetrack refused to let anyone see past.